Melancholia
by hannibalchoo
Summary: Tendrils of blond brush against the delicate curve of the cheek, as lids fall to a close,  Thoughts swimming to that one day, that day full of change, anger, sorrow, disappointment, pain, and most of all, heartache.


**A/N: **Hiyas! :D I am back again with another US/UK fic! *tosses confetti*

and phail summary is PHAIL. :D Huzzah!

I thought the title was cool, even though melancholia meant "a mental illness involving severe depression." well something like that. But neither Alfred nor Arthur is mentally unstable or anything...I just thought the title would work.

anyway hopes y'all enjoy it. I think its still got angst though. :) I love the US/UK angst! x3

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**=:[-MELANCHOLIA-]:=**

Emerald orbs watch as the rain pours from the dark sky, as it hits the pavement and breaks apart into little droplets and forming into dozens of puddles.

A pale hand touches the cool glass, slowly dragging each finger away, leaving an imprint on the fogged window. The other hand gently pushing away the curtains framing the ebony cased glass pane.

A soft bump resounds through the silent room as a forehead leans suddenly against the smooth windowpane.

A faint sigh emanates from lips in the shape of a downward curve.

Tendrils of blonde brush against the delicate curve of the cheek, as lids fall to a close,

Thoughts swimming to that one day, that day full of change, anger, sorrow, disappointment, pain, and most of all, _heartache._

The heart cradled in the chest became broken during that day. It shattered into a million small pieces like the falling raindrops. It was impossible to fix.

Emptiness and darkness swarmed in and stuffed the soul. It felt as though nothing could fill it up anymore.

Eyes snap open quickly. Teeth sink into soft flesh so hard blood was almost drawn. Denial swiftly comes with its dark veils already clouding such thoughts.

No, that day is supposed to be forgotten.

It was supposed to be a wound healed over, even if it appeared impossible.

Anger and frustration suddenly bubbles from within. Hands clench to fists. The need to cause obliteration and destruction was flowing into the mind.

But the sound of a booming knock interrupts the reverie.

"Arthur! Open up!" calls a thunderous voice from the outside. It rings across the dim lighted halls and reaches said person's name.

The ears recognize the tone of voice. An annoyed breathe is released. Teeth grind together, '_Great timing Alfred'._

Controlling the temper already boiling over the cauldron, feet are forced to budge and meet the unwelcomed guest.

Once the mahogany door creaks open, emerald meets blue skies and ocean waves.

The heart and mind again are once again drowning in the depths of fascination and adoration.

"Finally," Alfred whines, "I've been standing out here for hours!"

The fascination is interrupted and a livid reply spouts out from the mouth, "You should've at least called me, you bloody git!"

The blue eyes twinkle and the mouth quirks into a sheepish grin, "Well, I wanted to surprise you, is all."

The strings are tugged and the heart skips a beat.

Cheeks are tinged with pink and the words tumble out in a stutter, "W-well, t-t-then…t-that's…v-very…uh…er…" hesitance hinders the mouth, and then emerald orbs see blue ones watching. Cheeks flame into a brilliant shade of red, "J-just come in already!" in the end, embarrassment wins and the tongue is forced to be twisted and the feeling of gratitude is left unexpressed.

A lopsided grin is flashed. Emerald eyes roll.

Hands are placed behind the strong back encased by a bomber jacket and push the tall body in, "Hurry, the longer you stand here, the longer you become dripping wet."

"Yes, mother."

A smack to the head answers the retort.

As soon as both bodies are inside, Alfred is given a fluffy towel with golden trimming. He marches to the bathroom to dry off.

The body rests against the walls, arms crossed over one another.

The mind begins to flit back to those times when Alfred was young.

The hands remember the feel of the boy's hair tinted like the blooming sunflowers. It remembers the supple skin underneath the cotton towel. It remembers every curve, every angle and the full form of the body.

Ah, how those days were filled with joy and carelessness.

The mind is suddenly filled to the brim with smiles graced by the boy in the memories.

Out of the blue, emerald eyes start to sting and something wet glides down the curvature of the cheek. Fingers catch the plummeting tear.

_Why?_

It doesn't stop. It keeps flowing until it cascades as waterfalls pour down from a cliffside. Breath hitches and hiccups, along with hacking and wrangled snuffles.

The mind was so sure, so sure that the heart and soul were patched up. That it was definitely fixed and working again.

Knees shake and the body slides down unto the carpet floor.

The mind panics. What can it do? No matter what lies it comes up with, no matter how many times denial sweeps in to soothe the heart with its sweet nothings, the soul knew.

The soul knew that there was still a large part of it that was living in darkness and shambles, rejecting the sunlight. That huge, gaping hole was still raw and fresh, still throbbing from that day.

It was evidence enough to prove that this individual could not let go of that boy.

He loved him too much.

That's why no matter how many times the body tries; it couldn't stay away from that boy.

But the mind would not recognize such a thing.

The mind forced the heart and soul to acknowledge that the boy left.

And he would never come back.

And that it was not the feeling of love the heart had.

But now the mind accepts.

It disposes of its so called pride and embraces.

It accepts with its whole being, as does the heart and soul, that they cannot, _do not_ want to relinquish their hold from the boy because he is the sun that greets him in the morning, the moon that lights his way in the darkness and the stars that make him shine even brighter.

That boy is _everything_.

Suddenly, it is easier to breathe again. A hand clutches the chest covered in a light sweater vest. The feeling of enlightenment, the feeling of finally knowing the truth, the simple truth, spreads from his head down to his toes. Tears still gushed out, but it was for relief. For contentment.

For the fact that, that had been the solution all along.

_I should've done this a long time ago._

The heart and the soul feels better, not wholly stitched up, but this was progress.

Tears are wiped away. A huff.

Then, Alfred marches out the door and sees the ruined state of his former guardian. Immediate concern fills him.

"Artie, what happened?"

Eyes of emerald lock with ones the color of sapphire.

The stares linger.

Emerald search for something, something in those orbs of blue.

It finds genuine worry and youth.

So much youth behind those eyes, so much inexperience lies about.

A sudden fear crawls up stealthily in the mind.

Doubts, uncertainty, insecurity.

In the back of the mind, the question nags, wanting to come out.

_What if he leaves me again?_

Fresh tears spill out again, trickling down, falling to kiss the carpet floor. The mind, the heart and soul know that it could, would happen once more. The young always get bored so easily and are always easily distracted and forget what is important.

Confusion swims in the blue eyes.

"Arthur, what's wrong?"

The sobs increased, the body trembles as if the ground beneath was shaking.

Alfred is at loss. He does not know what to do or how to comfort the poor soul.

All he can do is watch as his companion pours forth all of the sadness deep inside.

Then, the body leans against Alfred's.

Surprise registers upon his face, then he immediately responses, placing his arms around the quivering form and tries to soothe it. The body doesn't reject the boy; instead, it welcomes the strong arms and the warmth radiating from him.

Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to hours.

The boy waits for an answer to his question.

The mouth wants to say, to say what the heart truly feels. But it does not know how for the mind does not know the right words, neither does the soul. All it could do is let the heart cry and cry and cry.

Soon, the eyes, with its still pouring tears, droop and place the world in darkness.

The body still rests against the boy's, blonde head buried in the chest. Exhaustion had taken over the petite frame.

Alfred carries the worn out body to the master bedroom.

He sets the body down gently, handling it carefully, as though it would break so easily.

Alfred's hand lingers over his former guardian's hand. He squeezes it as if to say, 'everything will be alright.'

He is about to let go, but the guardian's hand does not. The hand has a firm grip on his. A soft cry comes from the lips.

A whisper comes through, pleading, "Please don't leave me."

Alfred turns to see if his former guardian is awake, but all he sees is a face pulled into a sorrowful and scorned expression and a tear forming in the corner of the eye.

A small, affectionate grin graces the boy's lips. He brings his lips to his former guardian's eyelids, giving each a gentle kiss. He wipes away the teardrop that was ready to jump.

Hands tenderly stroke strands of blonde locks, strayed on the forehead. Lips touch the area between the two thick brows, bestowing upon another light kiss to the former guardian.

"I'm here." Alfred murmurs and reassures, chanting, "I'll always be here."

As if hearing his words, the former guardian adorns the lips with a joyous smile.

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How many knew it was Arthur before Alfred said anything?

:D ha ha just wondering anyway, I'm not sure if that would make a good ending or if this story makes any sense. But phail is fail. I am an amateur after all.

(Advanced) thank you to those who read, review, fave and etc. You guys make my days even awesomer :D


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